


control

by xnowimnothing



Category: Motionless in White (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Fluff and Smut, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-02
Updated: 2020-03-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:29:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22993234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xnowimnothing/pseuds/xnowimnothing
Summary: Chris just needs to relax. Ricky can help him.
Relationships: Chris "Motionless" Cerulli/Ricky "Horror" Olson
Comments: 4
Kudos: 24





	control

**Author's Note:**

> This is so SO fluffy I'm sorry I don't know what happened

The moment Chris walks through the door, Ricky knows something is up. He recognizes the footsteps. They're heavy, angry. The front door closes with a loud thud, making him startle a little. 

Ricky sighs, puts his computer aside. His project is going to have to wait tonight; Chris is here, Chris is not okay. Chris needs him. 

Chris grumbles and lets himself fall into the couch. He didn't even bother saying hi to Ricky, but he doesn't mind. He understands. He listens. 

He listens to the sounds the couch makes, the rubbing of jeans against leather, as Chris moves slowly, yet restlessly, on it. He listens to Chris's breathing; it's shallow. He's runnning a hand through his hair, pushing it back, then rests his elbows on his thighs, burying his face in his hands. Ricky smiles reassuringly, even though Chris isn't looking at him. He walks over to the couch and sits down next to him. 

“Hey,” he whispers, and Chris uncovers his face when he hears his voice. He relaxes, leaning back against the backrest, avoiding Ricky's gaze. He shuts his eyes when Ricky touches him, fingers brushing lightly along his arm. He's trying not to cry. 

“It's okay,” Ricky says softly. “I'm here.” 

But it's not okay for Chris, evidently, and a tear finally falls when Ricky pronounces his words. Ricky catches it with his thumb and leans in to kiss him just above his cheekbone. He smiles sweetly just like before, his hand in Chris's hair now, massaging his head slowly. 

“You need it?” Ricky asks after a while. He doesn't need to know _exactly_ what's going on. Chris's state is enough information, and usually there is only one way to make it better, a way that works more efficiently than everything they've ever tried. It's their little secret. 

Chris meets his eyes for the first time since he came home, a tear still poised on his lashes, cheeks and nose pink. He nods barely. Ricky smiles and kisses him on the lips, slowly, tenderly. 

Then he stands up. He holds his hand out to Chris, and he takes it, getting up himself. They hold hands as they go to their bedroom, Ricky's thumb moving in circular motion against Chris's skin. Ricky hopes it's reassuring. He hopes it conveys that he's here. He's still here and they can get through this. 

They start kissing as soon as they enter the room, and it's a slow kiss, it's sweet. Ricky's hands travel under Chris's shirt, insides filling with want as he caresses his warm flesh, head becoming dizzy. He has to keep his head clear, though. It isn't about him. It's about Chris. 

Ricky moves forward, making Chris step back, and continues to do so until they reach the edge of the bed. Then, he interrupts the kiss and pushes Chris down with his fingers against his chest. Chris lets himself fall down and Ricky straddles his waist instantly. 

“Don't fight it,” he says, but he can already see that Chris doesn't even want to. He nods anyway, eyes all large and sad. Ricky kisses his eyelid as soon as Chris looks down, both his hands behind his neck, his breathing starting to slow down a bit. 

“Let yourself go,” Ricky says. This time, it's assertive. Demanding. In clear contrast with how he's been acting, but it's okay. It's exactly what Chris needs. 

“Let me take the lead. Let me guide you,” Ricky's whispering in Chris's ear now, their bodies pressed together. Chris nods wordlessly again, his large hand on Ricky's back, pushing him closer. 

“Let me…” Ricky continues. A shiver runs down his spine when he realizes what they're about to do. What he's about to say. 

“Let me take control.” 

Chris nods again, more eagerly this time. It's almost desperate, Ricky thinks. It's beautiful. Chris needs it. And Ricky is going to give it to him. 

It rarely goes like this. Usually, it's the other way around. Usually, Chris doesn't let go of control even in bed. He loves to dominate. He loves to know exactly how, when, and why Ricky comes. He loves getting to decide when he gets to moan, when he gets to ask for what he wants. He loves to call him names, to make him feel like he's less than human. An object. Predictable, disposable. Pliant. 

But control isn't just a panacea, and Chris knows that. He knows that when it gets frustrating, when it gets overwhelming. Too much control can drive you crazy. Too much control can make you come home to your boyfriend crying. That's when you know control's been controlling you, and someone else has to take the upper hand. Just for a little while. Just for a night. 

Tonight, he's letting go. He just has to. 

Chris doesn't make a sound as Ricky undresses him; he only gasps when he takes his cock out, but Ricky shushes him right away. 

He's fully hard. Ricky lowers himself on Chris, until the cock is close to his face. Ricky knows it so well, he knows his veins by heart, he knows where to touch to make Chris groan the loudest. Chris starts to writhe when Ricky does nothing; he probably thought he was about to take it in his mouth, or in his fist at least, but Ricky isn't going to be this easy tonight. Chris is impatient, cock twitching when Ricky breathes on it, hands fisting the sheets, restless. Ricky has to suppress a giggle when he starts to moan in frustration. He's so beautiful like this. So vulnerable. 

“Hush,” Ricky says very softly. “Surrender.” 

Chris's fingers flatten on the mattress, clearly in an attempt to release the tension. Ricky touches his arm gently, feeling his muscles relax under his hand, skin warm, body slowly softening at the tender caresses. He runs his hand on Chris's collarbone and watches as he closes his eyes, exhales. His lips part. 

Chris's inked skin continues to react under Ricky's touch, his hairs standing on end when he reaches his chest, then his abdomen, his v-line. Ricky doesn't go lower, instead he reaches for the nightstand, grabbing the lube. 

“Please,” Chris says, and it's filled with desire and desperation. Ricky's guts turn at the sound of his voice, but he has to stay focused. 

“Shh,” he murmurs. “I'm here.” 

Ricky undoes his belt and jeans and takes them off, trying not to give his own anticipation away. It isn't about him, after all; it's about Chris, he has to make him feel better. Everything else is secondary. 

Ricky pours some lube onto his fingers and starts stretching himself open. Chris sits up at that, but doesn't dare reach out to him, or say anything. He just stays there, observes him with lust-filled eyes, mouth agape. 

“I'm almost there,” Ricky tells him, whimpering just a little as he opens himself further. 

“You're gorgeous,” Chris says eventually, want evident in his voice. Ricky blushes, looks down. Then he straddles Chris again, smears lube on his cock and Chris moans softly at the much-coveted contact. “Fuckin' finally,” he hisses out. 

Ricky laughs softly, caresses Chris's chest as he lowers himself down on him. He stretches him so good, he can't help but moan when he's finally inside, making his way deeper inside of Ricky. 

“Relax, baby,” Ricky says, leaning down so he can whisper in Chris's ear. “Let me do this.” 

Chris nods and Ricky kisses him lightly on the lips before starting to move on his cock. He settles to a slow pace, a pace that has him feel everything, everything about that dick of Chris's that he knows so well; Ricky feels the way it throbs, the way it twitches inside of him, the way it brushes against his walls. It feels so fucking good, it fits Ricky perfectly, as if it was made just for him - just to complete him and fill his vacant space. Ricky moans, struggles to keep his eyes open to look into Chris's, to study his expressions. His face is flushed red, lids heavy, lips swollen and parted. God, he's so fucking beautiful; Ricky wants more, he wants to make him feel amazing - wants to make him come right about now. But no, he has to wait. 

It's not about passion. It's about control. 

So Ricky rations his movements and falls down impaled on Chris's cock in a cadenced rhythm. It's hard not to lose himself in the moment, it's hard not to chase his own end. But he manages. Chris says nothing, he just pants, his breathing slow and heavy, the kind that makes Ricky's stomach burn. He isn't moving, either. He doesn't meet Ricky's ass halfway through. 

He's just letting things happen. Which is exactly what Ricky wanted him to do. 

“You're such a good boy, baby,” Ricky breathes out, and Chris grabs his hips in response. Ricky increases his pace just a bit, the muscles in his thighs beginning to burn, but Chris's moans keep him fueled. “I'll make you come, don't worry.” 

Chris reaches his hand and tucks one long strand of hair behind Ricky's ear, and Ricky locks eyes with him in that very moment. Chris curses, then sends his head back against the pillow. 

Ricky looks down at his own leaking cock, his balls meeting Chris's lower belly every time Chris's cock reaches his prostate, and fuck. He lets out a long moan before moving even faster, and Chris closes his eyes, bites his lip. Ricky can tell it's getting too much for him as well. 

“Baby,” Ricky says after riding him for a little longer. Chris looks like he's about to explode, his pretty brown eyes rolled back, lips red, muscles tight, trying very hard not to thrust his hips into Ricky. “Baby,” Ricky repeats, almost out of breath. “You can come now.” 

Chris's eyes suddenly become focused again, and Ricky rides him faster, harder. Chris's abs clench tight below Ricky and he groans low, then relaxes again. He releases his load inside of him, Ricky can feel his every spurt, sticky and hot as Chris opens his mouth in a silent moan as he comes. 

Ricky waits until he's finished to halt his movements. When he does, he comes off of Chris and goes to lie beside him, cum coming out of his ass, but he'll deal with that later. 

“How do you feel?” Ricky asks after a while, finger tracing the tattoos on Chris's arm. He still hasn't caught his breath completely. 

“Better. Thank you, Rick,” he says and hugs Ricky's middle, changing their position so that he's big spooning him. Ricky smiles. 

“Anytime.” 

**Author's Note:**

> xnowimnothing.tumblr.com


End file.
